Sunday, 20 May 2012

A letter to my GP

Dear Doctor. 
We have run out of Pup's Movicol medication, please can we have some more? Yes I know that we only put in a prescription request two weeks ago, but I'm afraid someone set fire to the box. Here is the evidence.
No, fortunately that 'someone' panicked and shouted for help at that stage, and no other serious damage was done, although the house stinks of smoke. Daddy can move fast, and a couple of jugfuls of water put the fire out. Yes, 'someone' was playing with the ignition on the gas hob.

Yes, I know someone else tried to cut his thumb off the other day, and you may be becoming somewhat concerned about our parenting skills. SO I am going to revert to plan A: Keep and raise my kids in boxes until they reach at least 18, and feed them through a straw. The only change to the plan is that the boxes must now be made of non flammable materials. And they won't be allowed penknives until they are 32. And whatever Tigs says he won't be allowed a motorbike until he is at least 89.

Thursday, 17 May 2012


The game on the way to school this Thursday morning involved rescuing Jesus from Darth Vader who wanted to kill him. "and we can't have that because Jesus saves our lives doesn't he?" To achieve this they seemed to need to keep running races, leaping in and out of Octopods and had to try not to fall into molten lava - which was colder than liquid nitrogen. There was also a lot of waving of light sabers.

Confused? I am.

And other peoples kids just WALK to school. I'm tired.
We've had a difficult couple of days.
Tigs behaviour at his new gym session on Tuesday was NOT quite what I hoped. On the other hand is it reasonable to expect a hyperactive and very agile 5 year old to queue nicely for his turn on each activity when there is a whole gym full of fascinating equipment to try out?
Well he DIDN'T. He climbed on the asymmetric bars, played with the mats, did forward rolls, wriggled, giggled, and distracted every other child in the place. If I heard his name shouted once to get off   stop that   sit nicely... I heard it a hundred times. But it was good natured this time. I just hope it stays that way if he can't settle down. The good bit is that he loved it, despite the queueing, and he wants to keep going. I think he may be quite good if he has the self discipline to learn and if he can get over being one of the very few boys in the group. It is also a long day for the boys, we go straight from school and don't get home until 5.30. Also Pup has to sit and wait with me, and it isn't much fun for him.  However we have discovered a nearby play area that we might explore once Tigs gets settled in. I am finding it quite tiring getting used to all the activities the boys do now. We will have to be very disicplined about how many we allow.
 Yesterday was not our best day.
Pup was in pieces first thing because he'd broken one of Tigs 'Camberwick Green' figures given to him by his foster carers.  Mop up tears (bilateral , both boys devastated.) Get them to school.
Later  I brought Mum home for a few hours; always hard work. She is very unsteady on her feet and getting her into the house is challenging these days and quite scary. She is also getting very institutionalised. Example: she wouldn't make a decision about what time she wanted to go home, although I gave her several options and tried to make it clear that I didn't mind. In the end we chose that we pick the boys up from school in the car and drive her straight home from there, rather than her staying any later. It was a good thing we did. She was exhausted, too tired to interact with the boys at all. So we dropped her  in her room and headed home.
It was at just after 5 that Pup came running downstairs screaming. To my horror I realised that he had blood streaming from his hand. He'd cut his thumb with a penknife that Himself had rather foolishly given him the other day (don't blame him,  he is already beating himself up about it!) It seemed to be a deep long cut in need of professional attention.  Himself was due home at 5.30, so we mopped up, bandaged up and waited. Himself was 15 minutes late, and not too pleased to be greeted at the door by a stressed wife who insisted he come in and take over while she took Pup to Minor Injuries clinic. We then realised that Tigs was howling in distress because he thought that Pup was going to be staying in hospital again.
We got it sorted. Pup and I had to wait an hour and a half to be seen, but the clinic is a reasonably pleasant place as hospitals go, with toys and books, and another child in his year at school was there too, which helped to distract him (and her!) from the wait. He had his finger steristripped up (no stitches, thankfully!), and we got home  just before Tigs went to bed, so he could see for himself that Pup was NOT staying in the hospital. Himself had kept him happy and distracted while we were away, thankfully.
Pup was shattered. I'm just glad that day is over.

Thursday, 10 May 2012

Spoiling for a fight.

That was Tigs today.

In fact that is Tigs most days. He pushes us until we crack and he gets the satisfaction of making us cross. And today was one of his days for pushing HARD.
"Tigs leave that knife alone!" *knife waved near cat's head*

"Tigs, that's your brothers' toy and he doesn't want you to have it"  *runs off with toy*

"Tigs, don't jump in that puddle, you're not in wellies!"  *splash!*

I did crack. I had warned him that jumping in puddles in school shoes would mean cold wet feet in school. So after the fifth time (we'd just got home) I picked him up, took off his shoes and socks and stood him in a puddle to demonstrate what cold wet feet feel like. He nearly levitated out of it, screaming. (it was quite a warm day despite the rain, and to those who think this is child abuse, I then stood him in clean warm water!)

Tomorrow if he jumps in puddles I will just warn him once and let him get on with it. He may decide that a day at school in wet shoes is not worth it. He may find another way to wind up mummy.

He is clever.  He delights in drawing on his bedroom walls, furniture and toys, because it isn't allowed. He has learned not to do this anywhere else in the house, but will persist in doing it in his bedroom. So all pens pencils etc were banned from his room. The other day he sneaked into his brother's room and helped himself to an assortment of pens and did a massive scribble on his cupboard, (I wouldn't mind so much if he drew something meaningful!) The bit that really impressed me was that he then carefully returned the pens to the drawer in Pup's bedroom.

I don't have the patience of a saint, in fact some days I don't even have the patience of your average sinner, and he is wearing me out!!!

Saturday, 5 May 2012

That car has the same numberplate as ours....

I was walking home after dropping the boys at school. There is a small cul de sac near school where I sometimes park if I'm take them by car (disclaimer - only if the weather is awful or I'm going on somewhere else after the school run!) So heading down this road I strolled past a silver Ford Focus and noted in passing that it had a numberplate like ours. No... it had the same numberplate..  

what the.... Hang on - note scratches on side, sticker on back. That is our car.

So how did it get ten minutes walk from our house?
Then I remember. Yesterday I was planning on taking the boys to the local shops after school, and it was raining so I drove to pick them up. And by the time I'd got into school the sun had come out, so we went to the nearby play area... and walked home. Leaving the car sitting sadly forgotten in the cul de sac.


Is this the start of dementia?

I am just so glad I noticed it the next moning, as I needed it later that day, and would have been panicking like crazy if I couldn't have found it in our street. Cue calls to the police insurance firm, confessing to Himself that I'd lost the car.....  The funny thing is that Himself didn't notice it was missing from our street that night either. Thankfully. I haven't told him yet.

Wednesday, 2 May 2012

Cystic Fibrosis week - getting nosey

 More on CF. Because it's CF week, and I have a son with CF. An excellent cartoon video about a child with Cystic Fibrosis

A CF Trust video

Did I say my son has CF?

(And I was one of the CF mums consulted on the making of this video.)

Cystic Fibrosis Week

   It's CF week, so I thought I'd post some information about CF, copied from the CF Trust site. Reading this brings me back to the reality of what my son may have to face. On the positive side several drugs are being trialled that may transform the lives of people with CF. There is even a gene therapy trial on here in the UK.

   None of these drugs will cure CF. But maybe one of them may help my Pup lead a more normal life. I hope so.

What is Cystic Fibrosis?
  • Cystic Fibrosis (CF) is one of the UK's most common life-threatening inherited diseases.
  • It is caused by a faulty gene that controls the movement of salt and water in and out of the cells within the body.
  • Cystic Fibrosis affects the internal organs, especially the lungs and digestive system, by clogging them with thick sticky mucus. This makes it hard to breathe and digest food.
  • Over 9,000 people in the UK have Cystic Fibrosis.
  • If two carriers have a child, the baby has a 1 in 4 chance of having Cystic Fibrosis.
  • Over two million people in the UK carry the faulty gene that causes Cystic Fibrosis - around 1 in 25 of the population.
  • Over 95% of the UK CF population is Caucasian, but CF affects many ethnic groups.
  • Each week, five babies are born with Cystic Fibrosis.
  • Each week, two young lives are lost to Cystic Fibrosis.
  • Currently half of the CF population will live past 41 years of age, and improvements in treatments mean a baby born today is expected to live even longer.

    From Cystic Fibrosis Trust

      This does not indicate what daily life is like with CF. Pup has it pretty easy at the moment, he is fit and healthy, as long as he does his twice daily physio, keeps active, takes his medication,  eats well and avoids infection. But many people with CF will be seriously disabled by the condition, need oxygen therapy, feeding tubes and have very restricted lives. Many have to spend long periods of time in hospital. Lung transplants may transform the life of a CF'er with severe lung damage.

Tuesday, 1 May 2012

To Grandmas and back

No we haven't been to Grandmas.

Bedtime is a difficult time of day at our house, but I always try and say "I love you" to the boys when I've said goodnight (sometimes through gritted teeth) The response is usually a snort or grunt or question about something desperately important in small boy world. Tigs in particular is not verbally expressive of affection. He shows his love in short sweet cuddles.

Last night went a bit differently:
"Goodnight Tigs, love you!"
"Love you mummy. Love you lots and lots"
"Love you lots and lots too!"
"Love you lots more than you love me mummy!"
"Oh? I love you to the moon and back Tigs" He is obviously not very impressed by this.
"I love you..... to GRANDMA'S  and back, mummy!"

Top that, mummy.

 (Grandma lives 60 miles away, and he finds the journey looong and tedious)

Speaking of the moon. 
For my birthday Himself gave me a gift (that he insists hotly was NOT intended for him.) It's an attatchment so I can take pictures with his telescope using my camera. 
It was a little cloudy last night so we didn't get long, but this was my second attempt.   Tried a few of Venus as well, and hoping to catch Saturn tonight!